


weaving fate

by mother_hearted



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Looms & Weaving, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, dressing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28857438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_hearted/pseuds/mother_hearted
Summary: A rough morning for Marianne leads into some self love and encouragement to take the next steps into her future.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27
Collections: Marihilda NSFW Week!





	weaving fate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for marihildansfw on twt! I had this idea for awhile and it evolved into this, I hope you enjoy c:
> 
> feat. my incredibly specific headcanons.

Marianne woke with the stale taste of depression on her tongue and that was what told her it was raining before the raindrops pounding on the windows hit her ears. She stared up at her dark ceiling, made darker by the clouds outside, and remembered it was her free day. With no business to act as a motivator, she couldn’t muster up the strength to crawl out of bed immediately. Her stomach growling an hour later was finally enough to send her hunting for the remains of her leftover snack, a pastry already stale despite being carefully folded back up in its parchment paper. Eating silently, Marianne eventually let out a sigh. 

_It’s too cruel to wake up so weary after a night’s sleep…_

But she was used to it. Walking aimlessly through her room, she finally parted her curtains and watched the rain, fiddling with the pieces of her hair that fell out of her sleeping cap during the night. Watching the garden getting soaked from the downpour reminded her to check on her new sapling and she switched windows, automatically sticking her finger into the pot to check the soil. 

She only had the little thing a few weeks, a gift from Lorenz after overhearing Leonie tell Marianne she was in desperate need of a hobby. She hadn’t the heart to tell them she already did, it was just… a secret. 

Her loom sat in a room off to the side, surrounded by its own materials and a plush stool perfect for sitting in for long hours. The loom sat bereft of a project, waiting on Marianne with an almost menacing certainty. She tore her eyes away from the room and wiped her hand onto her nightgown without thought. Still damp, no need to water it. She looked down at the dirty splotch and winced, careless again. 

She was due to get dressed, she should get dressed. 

Hilda would want her to get dressed. 

Hilda… 

Marianne sighed again, reaching for the folded letter on her bedside table. The contents of it hadn’t changed since her first reading two days ago, the letter a follow up from their last conversation. She owed Hilda a response, written or in person, one way or another. They wouldn’t be able to meet until the beginning of the next Moon… or they could meet next week, if Marianne agreed to teach at her school. 

_“What do you say, Mari? It’s brilliant, really! We won’t be so far from one another anymore and you can finally show off your weaving and enchantments.”_

_“Oh, no. I’m not qualified to teach anyone anything. Really.”_

_“You know what I’ve noticed?”_

_“What…?”_

_“Those who boast the loudest with no results to show are hopeless. Those who are humble with plenty to show are who I want in my school.”_

_“...I don’t know, Hilda. The only person I’ve ever shared my weaving with is you. What if my crest --”_

_“Nothing bad happened to me after you gave me my blanket, Mari! All I do is stay the perfect temperature under it all through the fall and winter. It’s genius… I don’t know how you did it.”_

_“I don’t know either. My magic… I think it comes from my intentions?”_

_“Mmmhmmm. So if you wanted to teach a gaggle of kids how to take care of themselves and show their families and friends how much they looove them --”_

_“Hilda!”_

“You’re not even sneaky.” Marianne scolded the Hilda from her memory, even if she couldn’t keep from smiling. “Hilda…” She really was the only one who knew of Marianne’s hobby, born from her fear and isolation as a young girl. Now a grown woman who felt magic pulse from her fingertips, the items she weaved became enchanted over time. Her weaving used to be a sorrowful thing, an escape to kill time, but nowadays, after the war, after confronting Maurice, her magic didn’t feel the same. She made projects with her friends in mind… but they sat in boxes, ungiven. She still feared that sorrow had slipped into the fabric, that the Curse remained tangled like a ball of yarn throughout her bloodline. 

And her, a teacher?

Really?

_I’ve gotten better at speaking up, and I don’t have many duties in this house… and I miss Hilda being close by. Like we were at school._

Marianne shook her head, a blush warming her cheeks. Hilda was sneaky. Wanting to have it both ways. Marianne’s gift… just as much as Marianne. It always overwhelmed her, that Hilda never stopped reaching for her, put Marianne on her arm at events so there was no mistake they were a pair. Matching like the necklace she custom made for Marianne, a pale blue sapphire framed in intricate gold wire, a perfect pair with Hilda’s light pink ruby. 

A gift along with the dress Marianne was eyeing in her closet, a ball gown that Marianne fell in love with at a shop, but was too afraid to reach for, fearing she couldn’t do it justice. Hilda always saw through her though, her eyes sharp when they came to uncovering Marianne’s tastes. Sometimes it felt like Hilda knew better than her, but Hilda always denied it.

_“But you always pick me out such nice things, Hilda.”_

_“Of course! Because I know they suit you. But you know it too, you’re just more subtle about it.”_

_“You really think so…?”_

_“I’ll prove it to you, Mari! On my count, point to the dress you want. Don’t worry about anything else.”_

_“Ah…”_

_“Ready? Three, two, one, go!”_

_“Huh?!”_

_“Hah, see, we picked the same one!”_

Marianne loved it. The long flowing length, The way the silks brushed against her calves. Wanting, needing to wear it again, she pulled off her nightgown and cap, dropping them to the floor. The padding in the dress’ top meant she didn’t need a bra, and though she couldn’t reach one of the buttons in the back, in the privacy of her room, she still wore it well. 

She risked a small smile in her mirror, carding her fingers through her messy hair. She’d need to do it later but she kept it down for now, her smile growing as she remembered Hilda’s fingers in her hair, the night after their time at the ball… Hilda’s velvet gloves fingers trailing over her cheek to the top of her exposed shoulder. Leading her in a private dance for two. No music but their own breaths, little questions that lead to Marianne saying, yes, yes, _yes…_

She found herself swaying, arms held out around her invisible lover, a woman who filled her arms with her full bosom and strong, thick arms. Marianne loved them, even as Hilda complained needing to wear loose sleeves, tailor old and new outfits to fit her shoulders. 

_“How am I supposed to be delicate, Mari?!”_

_“You’re delicate to me, Hilda. If your heart is as light as a fairy, so are you.”_

She danced around her room slowly, shivering not from any sort of cold, but the thought of Hilda’s strong hands, her manicured nails slipping out of her velvet gloves, roaming her body, reminding Marianne how well her dress fit, how well Hilda had learned every inch of her. How wet she made her folds before she even dipped between her legs. 

Marianne had no such patience, pressed against her aching cunt through her skirts. Panting as she rode her fingers, wanting to tease herself a little, not let the fantasy end so soon. 

Of being taken while standing up, Hilda’s soft mouth on her throat, Hilda’s calloused hands sweeping up her inner thigh. Her fingers, shiny from polish, slipping under the edge of her panties, appreciating the soft fuzz of her mons.

“Hilda…!”

Please, Marianne thought and finally gathered up her skirts, knees shaking when she stroked herself, spreading open slick lips, palm rubbing ineffectively over her clit. 

_“My Mari.”_

“Yes!

_“My sweet Marianne.”_

“Hilda!” Marianne shrieked, furiously rubbing her clit, thighs tensing in pleasure, in trying to keep upright, no strong arms to hold her up when she came, orgasm sending her to the floor, on her knees even as she kept working her pulsing clit, wanting to draw out every bit of pleasure she could. Craving the overstimulation, she kept it up for a few more sharp moments, imagining her chin wet with Hilda’s slick, taking her turn to shove her head under her skirts, lick her open like she was starving for her. 

Eventually she couldn’t keep up the momentum, breathing turned heavy while she rolled out her aching wrist. She stayed on the floor for several minutes, floating, happy, sated. Sighing softly when she stood, she only winced a little at the soreness in her thighs. She washed her hands before taking her dress back off, changed her underwear and pulled on her outfit for the day, as short as it would be, well past noon. 

It was after her first proper meal she found herself drawn to her loom and only after an hour of sitting on her stool, she came up with the plans for a beginners basket weaving lesson and a winter blanket for Leonie’s horse. 

Writing furiously with her quill, she let Hilda have this victory because it was a victory for Marianne too. As she started to make her plans to move, the rain died off, and the sun peeked through the clouds in the sky. Marianne joined her little sapling by the window sill, a smile on her face as she saw a glimpse into her new future.


End file.
